mune, when he was a
strapping artilleryman.

"You're a pretty poor pickpocket, old chap," reflected Kittredge, "but
you're an awful good liar!"

In spite of little sleep, he was serene and good-natured when they took
him, handcuffed, before Judge Hauteville the next morning for his
preliminary examination--a mere formality to establish the prisoner's
identity. Kittredge gave the desired facts about himself with perfect
willingness; his age, nationality, occupation, and present address. He
realized that there was no use hiding these. When asked if he had money to
employ a lawyer, he said "no"; and when told that the court would assign
Maitre Pleindeaux for his defense, he thanked the judge and went off
smiling at the thought that his interests were now in the hands of Mr.
Full-of-Water. "I'll ask him to have a drink," chuckled Kittredge.

And he submitted uncomplainingly when they took him to the Bertillon
measuring department and stood him up against the wall, bare as a babe,
arms extended, and noted down his dimensions one by one, every limb and
feature being precisely described in length and breadth, every physical
peculiarity recorded, down to the impression of his thumb lines and the
precise location of a small mole on his left arm.

All this happened Sunday morning, and in the afternoon other experiences
awaited him--his first ride in a prison van, known as a _panier a salade_,
and his initiation into real prison life at the Sante. The cell he took
calmly, as well as the prison dress and food and the hard bed, for he had
known rough camping in the Maine woods and was used to plain fare, but he
winced a little at the regulation once a week prison shave, and the
regulation bath once a month! And what disturbed him chiefly was the
thought that now he would have absolutely nothing to do but sit in his cell
and wait wearily for the hours to pass. Prisoners under sentence may be put
to work, but one _au secret_ is shut up not only from the rest of the
world, but even from his fellow-prisoners. He is utterly alone.

"Can't I have a pack of cards?" asked Lloyd with a happy inspiration.

"Against the rule," said the guard.

"But I know some games of solitaire. I never could see what they were
invented for until now. Let me have part of a pack, just enough to play
old-maid solitaire. Ever heard of that?"

The guard shook his head.

"Not even a part of a pack? You won't even let me play old-maid solitaire?"
And with